


Wine and Roses (and Times Alone)

by RodimusPrime036



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: CALUS SIMP, Dionysus more like. uh., Is it Slow Burn? Is it normal burn? What's burning?, It's MY canon so I make the rules, Leviathan Raids, M/M, Marks/Solus and Ari/Neptune (as per usual), Minor Violence, No calus slander on my fic pls, Oh my god i forgot to add tags, Oh yeah about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodimusPrime036/pseuds/RodimusPrime036
Summary: Bold of you all to assume I ever make plots before I start writing. Also why can't I put a note at chapter one I wanna make fun of warlocks
Relationships: Calus/Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Wine and Roses (and Times Alone)

Alright, maybe the ghost _was_ snooping. It was hard not to- new discoveries were always exciting, especially considering that this was a _tomb._ (And maybe the Guardians he had arrived with didn't even know he was there, but that was okay. They probably would have tucked him away into their ships instead of letting him tag along anyways.) 

The tomb is dimly lit by soft, glowing torches that had been relit by the arriving Guardians, glimmering off golden bowls and jewels scattering the floor. Dried fruits filled the bowls, old and frighteningly well preserved, and the floor was a shining white that contrasted the rich purple fabrics draped off the raised ceilings. It was nearly perfectly preserved, aside from the crumbled wall that had opened to unseal it. Fallen had first discovered it- breaking the rock hiding it, revealing the deep hall and unopened door at the end. Stones and dirt littered the floor, ruining the pristine look, however still unable to take away the beauty. (Whoever had been buried _here,_ the ghost noted, must have been _important.)_ The walls are white and gold; brilliantly done carvings adorned the surfaces, embedded in the stone and painted metallic gold, of guns and plants and suns, of planets and ships and- _oh._ He has wandered into the next room, transmatted through the heavy door. This one is _prettier;_ a gigantic bed took up most of the room, the walls scrawled in words he doesn't bother translating. Darker, in here, with no lights aside from his brilliant optic, but the shining, stone-embedded bowls glitter like stars when he gazes over them. The bed was _massive-_ covered in thick pillows and blankets in deep shades of purple, golden seams and velvet fabrics. 

_There._

He finds the tomb's inhabitant among the piles of pillows. An exo, mostly white, with delicate golden patterning over its face and gold finials. There's no saying for the eyes or mouth yet, but its armor matched the colors; mainly white with golden and purple highlights, a helmet cushioned gently nearby. There isn't any noticeable cause of death- though, any damage was likely restored and fixed up before it found itself here. (The ghost can hear someone talking, drawing closer, and he hesitates a moment.) 

"You must have been very important." He muses, shell twisting thoughtfully. _(There,_ **_there_ ** _it was, a click, a connection-)_ "Well," he gives a synthetic sigh, and his shell bursts with Light. "You're about to be important again. I don't think anyone will be visiting you here anyways." 

  
  
  


_Gold, there's so much gold- they are running, they are lost among the stars, it is so_ **_pretty_ ** _here, why were they running? There are so many people here, there are new people, there are plans and attacks, they need to get ready. Someone is talking to him, whispering about champions and shadows, there is food and color and_ **_stars,_ ** _he is warm and safe because he was on board the-_

_"-Leviathan."_

"What? Hello? Oh, I've never done this before-" someone is talking again. Everything is fading, falling like sand through his fingers despite how desperately he clutches for the thoughts of warmth, like stars flickering and dying in his mind, and the lingering memory of delicate touch fades until he cannot even recall what he had been struggling so desperately to retain. 

_What was he thinking about? It is gone- he can't remember yearning, can't recall ever even wanting to remember. Where was he?_

"Guardian- Guardian! Are you with me?" Oh. Yes, yes, someone was talking to him. (He is so comfortable, did he have a body? It doesn't feel like it- weightless, edgeless, colors with no outline, he was a fuzzy consciousness with no cage, he was aware but without the limitations of being physical yet. Could he stay like this?)

No, he couldn't. Something terribly bright bounces through his blissful darkness, and something _solid_ bumps into his face. He groans, flexes his fingers and clenches his fists until he feels the twinge up his arms. Movement is slow and hesitant; he slants his eyes until he can pretend the light doesn't bother him, rolls his shoulders and slowly bends his elbows until he can sit up.

"Oh!" Cries the voice, and he blinks and clicks his eyes until they focus and brighten. "You're up! I was getting worried- you're very lucky, actually, since there's other Guardians here-" 

He decides he doesn't _feel_ lucky when there's a thunderous crack and a burst of blinding light, and suddenly there is _nothing_ again. 

  
  
  
  
  


"What the fuck." The ghost pointedly ignores the look the warlock gives him; he is far too busy staring blankly down at his Guardian, who is slumped back in the blankets again. "You just killed my Guardian!" He cries indignantly, and the warlock waves a hand about. "I didn't know a Ghost came with us," she murmurs curiously, and he snarks under his breath. "Yeah? Well _I_ didn't know you were supposed to **_shoot people when you first see them!"_ ** She cringes, and another Guardian peers curiously into the room. A hunter, wearing pretty blues and whites, with a little blue ghost peaking out of her hood. "Heard a shot?" She prompts, and the ghost huffed crossly. "She _shot my Guardian,"_ he hisses, and she laughs. 

"Have you rezzed 'em yet?" 

"Oh- I forgot."

"Poor guy just gets dragged back to life and is already _dead."_

"I didn't mean to-"

"Everything alright?" Two more titans peak into the room; both exos, and he briefly recognizes one as the titan that worked with Shaxx and Saint. (He wonders how many Guardians were brought in to investigate, before remembering he was supposed to be reviving _his_ Guardian.) He lets the hunter explain, and they bustle curiously into the room, lighting a few torches along the walls as he peered down at the Guardian. 

"That's a titan," one of the titans announces. His ghost flits over, chirping curiously. "Oh, absolutely." He agrees, then dips his shell to the focusing ghost. "I'm Solus, by the way, and this is Marksman." The titan nods in a motion mimicking Solus' previous one, raising a palm in brief greeting, one that the ghost doesn't return as his shell expands outwards and Light seeps over the fallen Guardian. "I don't have a name yet," he replies after a moment, while he watches the impressive hole in the front of the Guardian's head fade into smooth metal. "I… think his name is Leviathan?" Solus seems curious, but doesn't continue speaking as the _titan_ blinks the blurriness back out of his eyes and sits up again. A hand raises to his forehead- (he is terribly disoriented, the world swaying and swimming around him, and he realizes he _remembers_ being alive earlier- when had he first started existing?)- and he slants his eyes as he takes in the sudden light in the room. 

  
  
  
  
  


Dionysus stands slowly, woozy and unsteady as he rolls his ankles before placing them on the solid ground below. He feels _heavy,_ but it isn't entirely unpleasant. It is _familiar,_ distantly, the way he straightens his back and curls his arms behind, the way he puffs his chest and tilts his chin up so that he can have the impression of looking down on his audience-

"Good afternoon," he greets, tone thick with an authority he doesn't recall placing there, "you may address me as Dionysus-7." He tilts his head down slightly, casting his gaze over those in the room with him, eyes narrowed. He doesn't recognize any of them, but that little voice speaks again, light and chipper.

"Oh, I thought your name was Leviathan. That doesn't matter though- welcome back! Again!" That isn't much of an explanation, and he notes the voice is coming from a little chunk of metal that flits happily around his shoulders. There are three other ones he can see, hovering around three of the four people in his presence- and the white and gold one sighs heavily before speaking. 

"You've been dead a long time," (it sounds like a practiced speech,) "and you were just brought back by your Ghost, who _should_ explain things a little better. I'm Solus, by the way, and this," it nods towards the biggest person in the room, "is Marksman." His 'ghost' seems to pout, his flippers tilting down as he squinted his optic. 

"I was getting there…" he grumbles, then shakes about and seems to perk up again. "But you're alive now! And a Guardian! And I'll explain that better when we aren't right next to your literal death bed! Isn't that neat?" Dionysus turns, purple eyes widening in slight surprise at the mention of _'death bed,'_ and the third ghost makes an odd sound. 

"He's just come back and he's already been killed _and_ given something to have a crisis about." He sighs, giving Dionysus a side-eyed glance. "I'm Neptune," he introduced, and the one with the cloak burst forward eagerly. "I'm Artemis!" She greeted, looking him up and down before seeming to judge the room. "Friends call me Ari, though." (He decides he probably doesn't count as a _'friend.')_ Dionysus squared his shoulders, straightening his posture further before bending neatly at the waist in an imitation of a bow- (and he doesn't really know _why,_ or why the motion makes him feel… _off,_ but he straightens at her startled sound.) 

"As stated previously, you may call me Dionysus-7. However, the _seven_ part is best left unsaid." He leans back, keeps his arms crossed at his waist behind him as he surveys the room. "I assume you all are unaware of my reasoning for being here?" (Ghost looks vaguely thrown off as he speaks, blinking owlishly before looking back to the 'Guardians.') Marksman hums softly, looking him over before speaking. 

"We just found you. You were… _buried,_ here. Kinda assumed you were pretty important, given, well, you know." He gestures between his armor and the rest of the room, and Dionysus follows the sweeping hand motion before his gaze stops on the helmet. He reaches for it, raises it off its purple silk pedestal, thumbs over the smooth metal and pauses a moment when his fingers brush an _engraving_ on the inside. (Curiosity gnaws, and he politely shuts it out later. Something deeper tells him that this wasn't meant to be shared, and he feels that he should trust that.) 

In the time he took to cradle the helmet, the Guardians and Ghosts had taken to murmuring thoughtfully to one another. He picks up, distantly, something about cities and towers and _'Zavala,'_ and he slides the white metal over his head before he turns back to face them. "I assume we won't be staying here, then? However, I would like to take some of this with me." (Artemis is still looking around, so he sweeps a hand through the air in a broad gesture.) "Aside from the bedding, I doubt I would need most of this. Feel free to take what catches your eye," _(praise be to the Emperor.)_ He startles at the words dying in his throat, unfamiliar and foreign, and certainly _not_ what he had intended to say, and he is momentarily grateful he had choked on the sentence instead of saying it out loud. 

Ghost doesn't seem bothered, beaming brilliantly as he twirls and scans over the exo. He moves slowly through the room, humming softly as he ran his fingers over the silk sheets and soft pillows. Artemis is snooping through the room while he walks, and he looks up from his gazing before startling. A gun- a sniper, actually, the same glittering colors as his own, mounted above the pillows. It is _familiar,_ even moreso when he lifts the gun off its post and adjusts the weight in his hands. (This is _his,_ he does not know _how_ he knows, but he _knows._ This has always been his. He holds it close before turning back to his Ghost.) "I believe we can return at a later time," he murmurs, because there is something terrible and sad coiling in his gut, (and he cannot explain _why.)_ "I assume we have somewhere else to be?" The ghost stares up at him before making a gesture like a nod. "Right- yeah! We should head to the tower- that's where Guardians stay! And I can explain better when we get there." Dionysus nods softly, and, as Marksman guides Artemis and the others out of the room, he hesitates in the doorway. 

Curiosity still sinks fangs into his chest, and he stares at silk bedding and golden decorations. Familiarity dies as fast as it sparks, and he stares, clawing at the racing feelings, until he is confused on why he is staring at all. 

He turns and follows the others.


End file.
